


Evening in Bon Temps

by alley_oops, jennandanica



Series: A Breath of Home [54]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, True Blood RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-03
Updated: 2013-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-22 08:03:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/910838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alley_oops/pseuds/alley_oops, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Ryan meet at the San Diego Comic Con and hot sex ensues. In this chapter, Ryan decides to bring someone home.</p><p>
  <i>"Jesus Christ, I need a beer," Ryan mutters, Jason's well-honed Louisiana accent coming to the fore. Snagging his own bottle from the fridge, he pops the cap and takes a long swallow. "What a fucking day."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Sam blinks at his lover, staring for a moment before he really takes in the sight before him. The t-shirt, the jeans, even the accent, all belong to someone else. Realization slowly dawning... Christ. His groin tightens. Jason. "Rough one?"</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Evening in Bon Temps

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone familiar with the [RPG Citadel](http://www.journalfen.net/community/citadel/friends), this is NOT backstory for our pups in the game. In Citadel, Sam is played as the actor and Ryan is played AU as a songwriter. And then a little birdie told us our boys were going to be at SDCC at the same time in real life and we couldn't pass up the opportunity to see what would happen in another world, with the boys both as their actor selves.

Ordinarily when Ryan drags on these skin-tight jeans and pulls on a weathered gray Bon Temps Football t-shirt, he settles immediately, his mind falling comfortably into the confines - and they are confined - of Jason Stackhouse. It's been five years already, and he doesn't even need to think about getting into character; the character is simply _there_ , waiting to be accessed. Tonight, though, he's jittery, tapping a restless hand on the steering wheel as he makes the turn for Sam's house. His house too, right.

He jogs lightly up the stairs of the duplex, reaching up to drag a hand through his hair before coming into contact with the gel he tousled in before he left the set -- and remembering. Pausing on the landing, he takes a deep breath to steady himself, to feel Jason spread through him to his fingertips. Then he unlocks the door and heads inside. Sam is perched on a stool at the kitchen counter, digging into some chips with a cold bottle at his elbow. Perfect.

"Jesus Christ, I need a beer," Ryan mutters, Jason's well-honed Louisiana accent coming to the fore. Snagging his own bottle from the fridge, he pops the cap and takes a long swallow. "What a fucking day."

Sam blinks at his lover, staring for a moment before he really takes in the sight before him. The t-shirt, the jeans, even the accent, all belong to someone else. Realization slowly dawning... Christ. His groin tightens. Jason. "Rough one?"

"Bubba, you wouldn't believe." Ryan just barely keeps himself from melting in relief when Sam so smoothly picks up the threads of his roleplay. He leans against the counter, opposite from Sam, and shakes his head. "I tell you, if it's not one woman, it's fucking three of them, and they're all on their fucking... you know, time of the month, at the same, like, time. I mean, is that even possible?" Beginning to settle, he slugs some more beer. "That sounds like a fucking conspiracy to me. You know, like, how Jesus still lives in Nashville, and some WT sons-a-bitches just saw him at the QuikTrip last week."

Sam laughs. "With women, it's definitely a conspiracy," he says, taking a swig from his own bottle, his brain scrambling at where he should go with this. "You need to find another way to relieve the tension."

"Yeah." Ryan blows out a breath, sighing like the weight of the world is on his broad shoulders. "I used to play a lot of ball. That helped. But my friends that I ran with, back in high school -- they just can't keep up with me anymore," he insists, Jason's careless arrogance second nature now. "It's fucking embarrassing, that's what it is. And I'd tell them so... You know, if I didn't think it would hurt their feelings."

"Sounds like you need some new friends," Sam suggests all casual-like. "You know, just to step in where your old ones can't."

"Oh yeah?" Ryan looks at him, bright-eyed. "You play ball?"

Sam laughs again. He can't help it. "Actually, I do, but I also know some other ways to relax," he says, polishing off his first beer.

Alert to the tone of innuendo - even if he's not quite sure what it means - Ryan leans in, intent. "You mean, like," he says, his voice dropping, "cock-fighting?"

Sam runs a hand over the back of his hair, ducking his head a little to hide his smile. "Not quite," he says, dropping his voice to match the other man's when he confesses, "V."

In an instant, Ryan's entire demeanor changes. He backs off, standing up straight, and suddenly can't seem to find a comfortable place to look. "I... Nah, man, I don't do that no more." Shoving his hands in his too-tight pockets, he attempts to give Sam a casual shrug, but there's no hiding how intensely uncomfortable it would make Jason, the mere mention of doing - _using_ \- vampire blood. "I mean, yeah, I've done it. But... that shit will jack you up, you know?"

"Not if you do it right," Sam says. "In a controlled environment. Then you just get the best of everything. Mind wide open, freer than a fucking bird."

"Really?" Jason Stackhouse has never been known for any particular firmness of mind; if someone can talk a good game, they can distract him in an instant. "Wait. Like, what do you mean by a controlled environment?" It sounds a little too much like a rubber room to him, and he doesn't see any fun in that.

"Just somewhere you're safe and all," Sam says with a shrug. "My place is pretty secluded. No nosy neighbours right fucking there."

Ryan angles his head, considering. Would Jason jump on such an offer, or would he hold out for more time to think it through...? Hell, Jason is the 'jump without looking' type if there ever was one. "That... that could be cool," he acknowledges, reminding himself to act cagey, not too eager. "Except, hey man. V is so shit-hot expensive. I'm tapped right now, you know? I don't even know where we'd score some."

Sam glances around, making sure they're not being watched, then leans forward again, chest almost to the bar when he pretends to hold up a vial before quickly shoving it back into his jeans. "You game?"

His eyes widen in an instant, and Ryan damn near starts salivating at the tease. "Yeah," he whispers, then looks up to meet the stranger's eyes. "Let's get out of here."

This is where roleplay can get a little weird. Sam pulls out his wallet, tosses a couple of bills on top of the island then nods for the other man to follow. He heads towards the bathroom then down the hall and then back into the room they just left, coming in by the front door. "Make yourself comfortable," he says. "You want another beer?"

"A beer?" Ryan shrugs, looking around, trying to gather clues about this stranger whom he's just followed home. "Um. Okay. Sure. But..." He shoves his hands into his jeans pockets, and nods towards Sam's hip, where that mysterious vial disappeared to. "Don't you want to... you know?" Do they need to draw this out, the reason they're _really_ here?

Sam grins. "You're an eager one, aren't you?" he says, pulling the make-believe vial from his jeans again and holding it up between his fingers.

"Well, yeah!" There's that boyish Jason Stackhouse grin, all dimples and dissimulation, and Ryan turns it on in full force. "I mean, free V -- who wouldn't be eager?"

"I never said it was completely free," Sam says with a smile, opening the vial and placing a drop on his finger. "I just said you didn't need to _pay_ for it."

Immediately Ryan's attention focuses with laser intensity. He stares at Sam's fingertip, lips parted until he remembers to shut his mouth. "...What?" He shakes his head, his eyes clouding with confusion. "If you don't want me to pay you, then...?"

Sam shrugs, holding out his finger. "I'm sure we can come to terms," he says, figuring that once Jason's got the V in his system, it'll be a whole hell of a lot easier to negotiate.

"But you... Hey, wait." Ryan pulls up in sudden suspicion. "You don't have a website, do you?" He is _not_ dancing around in his underwear again for all those sick fucks on the internet, no sir.

Sam laughs and shakes his head. "Nope." Holding his finger a little higher. "You want this?"

Ryan drags his gaze away from that hypnotic bead of red. "Yeah..." He sidles a bit closer, leaning on the bar opposite Sam once more.

"Well then, take it," Sam says, leaning in, his finger offered, his eyes on the other man's mouth. "Use your tongue."

"If you think..." Ryan mutters, but he trails off before it's at all clear just _what_ he's suggesting Sam might think. And anyway, it's just an excuse, just an attempt to cover for the intense magnetic pull he feels right now. Once an addict... Keeping a wary eye on Sam, he slowly leans in and licks at the drop of blood with one quick flicker of his tongue. "Oh, god," he moans, the first taste bursting through his system like a supernova. Before he even thinks about it, he laps at Sam's finger again, then simply sucks him into his mouth.

That finger might as well as have a direct line to Sam's cock with the way it reacts, throbbing roughly against the zipper of his jeans. "Good?" He already knows it is. Knows exactly how it's lighting Jason on fire.

"Mmm." The reply is muffled, and Ryan moans again, sliding his lips up and down the length of Sam's finger, suckling a bit harder to make sure he gets every last molecule of V. The high is already starting to take him over, but there's _more_ , he can feel it -- just out of reach. "More," he murmurs huskily, and nips at Sam's fingertip.

Fuck. "Yeah?" Sam offers him another drop, again on the end of his finger. Reeling him in...

This time Ryan closes his hand in a loose - but very definite - grip on Sam's wrist, holding the man in place so he can suck on his finger, tongue rubbing over the whorls and grooves in the skin. His cock is a swelling weight inside his tight jeans, pressing insistently against his zipper, and without even thinking, or letting go, he circles in closer. Until he can feel the heat of Sam's body against his own.

It's better than Sam'd hoped for, the other man so much more responsive, so much more eager. Willing. "You ever fuck on V?"

"Of course," Ryan murmurs, thinking back to Amy. "I didn't think sex could get any better, but then..." He eventually decides that Sam's finger is as clean as it can possibly get, and he eases back again. But he keeps hold of the man's wrist.

Sam grins. "You know it's absorbed through the skin, yeah?"

"What, the sex?" Ryan does a slow Jason-blink at Sam, confused. Why so much chatter when he's only here for V?

"No, the V," Sam says, pressing closer. "Did you ever put it on your dick? Or inside whoever you were fucking?"

"No." Jesus, Sam is starting to seem downright fucking hypnotic. "On... On your dick?" Ryan stammers softly, staring into the man's eyes.

Sam nods, slipping his free hand between them, cupping the other man's cock through his jeans. "You come again and again..."

Ryan jerks back in a second, banging up hard against the counter's edge. "Whoa, hey," he protests, but it's pretty much automatic, and he can't quite recall why... He's got a good reason for not being cool with this, he's sure of it. Something about dogs, and barking... "I don't," he eventually manages, and it sounds a bit weak even to his own ears. "I mean, if you..."

"You don't what?" Sam murmurs, closing in, reaching for the button on those jeans this time and tugging it open. "It's not you, it's just the V..."

Assuring Jason Stackhouse that he is not responsible for his actions: it's, like, the ultimate negotiating strategy. "Yeah," Ryan breathes, and tentatively reaches out to lay his hands on Sam's hips. "People do crazy shit on V." For example, right now he can't stop himself from wondering how the smooth skin of Sam's throat tastes.

"Damn right they do," Sam agrees, sliding his hand inside and wrapping it around that hot, hard cock, stroking slowly but firmly.

"Damn right..." Ryan's eyes slip shut, his lips part, and he gives himself over to the feeling of another man's hand on his cock, jacking him like he knows exactly what he's doing. Telling himself that his mind is detaching from his body to experience the V more organically, more spiritually, he lets his hands act of their own accord, sliding beneath Sam's t-shirt, firm hot flesh against his fingertips.

"You want more?" Sam asks, lowering his head to the other man's throat, tongue and teeth moving over his skin even as he keeps stroking and moves them towards the bedroom.

"More?" Ryan echoes, stumbling blindly backwards. Oh fuck, it feels so good. Feels so fucking amazing to just let go, to admit he has absolutely no control over this situation, to surrender totally to the moment. He abruptly tangles his fingers in Sam's shirt, yanking at it and tearing the thin cotton, then shoving the rags from Sam's shoulders so he can finally see that powerful chest, those heavily-muscled arms.

Christ. It's so tempting to return the favour but Sam's mindful that Ryan's clothes belong to Jason, to wardrobe, so he settles for backing him into his room and up against the bed. Hands shoving those tight jeans down his thighs. "Get them off," he growls, biting at the other man's mouth.

Ryan stumbles a bit, then hops around on one foot then the other, trying to pull off his boots. By all rights it should clear his head, this moment of broken contact. It doesn't. When he looks up again, finally nude now, Sam is just as mesmerizing as before.

"On the bed, on your back," Sam orders, already removing his jeans, his t-shirt long gone.

Without even thinking, Ryan obeys; Jason has always been good at following orders. He braces on his elbows, avid gaze moving over Sam's body like he can devour him with his eyes. 

Moving between Jason's thighs, Sam makes a show of slicking his fingers with a few drops of V, trusting that his lover is actually prepped already for him. He rubs the tip of one over that tight pucker, watching the face below him. "You ever done this before?"

"What? No, hey!" Ryan recoils back against the headboard, and swears to himself that he can't feel that teasing touch lingering on his flesh like a brand. "Hey, man! You don't just... just go knockin' on heaven's door without, you know, so much as a 'hey there.'" He stares at Sam in suspicion, now. "I told you, I don't do that. I mean, it's cool with me if you do, and all, just..." He trails off with a shrug.

"I thought we were past 'hey there'," Sam says, grinning, outright amused. He tilts the vial against his finger again and draws a line down the length of Jason's cock. "That better?" he asks, leaning in and getting his mouth on the other man before he has a chance to protest again.

Ryan's only answer is a vague choked gurgle. His fingers immediately tangle in Sam's hair and he has to fight not to buck too hard into the man's mouth. But _damn_.

Now that he's got the other man's cock in his mouth, Sam slips his hand back between his thighs, fingers rubbing over his hole again. He's pretty damn sure Jason won't object this time. So sure that he pushes one finger all the way in as he deepthroats him.

And it's true, Ryan is lost in a blinding whirl of sensation now. His muscles clamp tight around Sam's finger, his body begging for more of the same even as he slams his cock deeper. "Yes," he gasps, dropping his head back with a thump against the headboard. "Fuck, yes!"

Sam pushes a second finger into that tight hole and then a third, working the V into the stretched skin, into the walls inside. Growling softly as his throat's fucked, nothing held back. He could care less if the other man comes now. With the V, he'll come again. With Sam's cock inside him.

"Fuck, so good, so good..." It's getting difficult for Ryan to stay in character; fortunately, one of Jason's defining aspects is how much he loves sex. He yanks Sam's head down and spills hot into his throat, holding him there for one quaking moment, two. Then he relaxes, boneless.

Sam doesn't waste a moment. Or a drop. He swallows every last pulse then shifts upwards, kneeling between the other man's thighs, his cock already replacing his fingers.

"Oh, god!" _Slam!_ goes Ryan's head, again. He barely notices the impact, so damn focused on how fucking amazing it feels to have Sam filling him. Instinctively he wraps his legs around Sam's hips, scooting down the bed to lie a bit more flat. "C'mon," he orders, hanging on to Jason's accent by the skin of his teeth.

"C'mon what?" Sam teases, bracing his hands above Jason's head and just _slamming_ into him.

"Fuckin' _bring it_ ," Ryan bites out, reaching down to cup his hands around Sam's ass cheeks. "If you're gonna fuck me, then fuckin' make it good."

Sam growls at that and drives into Ryan, holding nothing back as he fucks him so hard his whole body aches with it.

 _It must be the V._ Because, _damn_. Ryan lifts his hips to meet every pounding thrust, taking just as much from Sam as he gives. He arches his back, digs his fingernails into Sam's skin and curses a blue streak, feeling lust flash like fire up his spine.

"Harder," Sam urges at the feel of those nails. "Mark me," he growls, hips slamming harder still, his cock buried inside that tight heat again and again.

"Fucked-up freak," Ryan mutters, but of course it's just a token protest -- he doesn't mean a word. He can feel himself growing raw at the edges, beginning to fall apart... He shouts, raking his nails down Sam's back and blowing hot and wet over the man's skin, his breath thundering in his lungs.

That's it. He's done for. The moment Ryan's body clenches tight around him, Sam goes over, spilling thick and heavy into his lover.

With a loud groan, Ryan collapses bonelessly beneath Sam. He stares blindly at the ceiling, listening to the pounding of their heartbeats in the still evening.

Fuck. Sam chuckles, shaking his head, taking in the look on Ryan's face. "You are so fucking hot," he tells him, brushing their lips together.

Ryan lifts his head to buss Sam's lips again, then relaxes back with a crooked grin. "Must be the V."

"Must be," Sam agrees, grinning back. "Love you."

"Love you too," Ryan breathes, his accent his own once more. "So much."

[To chapter fifty-five](http://archiveofourown.org/works/964335)


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